


held my weight in shame

by ShyAudacity



Category: 9-1-1 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst, Concussions, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Eventual Happy Ending, Eventual Romance, Family Feels, Gen, Hurt Evan "Buck" Buckley, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Domestic Violence, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, M/M, Mentioned Maddie Buckley, Minor Violence, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Past Character Death, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Prompt Fic, Protective Evan "Buck" Buckley, Slow Burn, U.S. Navy SEAL Evan "Buck" Buckley, Whump, i dont even know how to describe this AU it just is what it is, not as bad as it sounds
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-04
Updated: 2021-01-04
Packaged: 2021-03-14 23:15:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,943
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28553739
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ShyAudacity/pseuds/ShyAudacity
Summary: He waits until the guy steps into the light before pushing away from his desk and grabbing him by the front of his shirt in one fluid movement. The gun that was in his hand clatters across the ground. Buck presses the body against the nearest wall, thinking that it’s no big deal. He’s just going to scare him a little before sending him running for the hills.Then, Buck hears the pained noise that comes from the body in front of him and he takes a closer look at the masked face, realizing with horror that he’s holdinga child.Good God.ORInspired bythis post by whump-galaxy
Relationships: Christopher Diaz & Eddie Diaz (9-1-1 TV), Evan "Buck" Buckley & Christopher Diaz (9-1-1 TV), Evan "Buck" Buckley & Firehouse 118 Crew, Evan "Buck" Buckley/Eddie Diaz (9-1-1 TV)
Comments: 7
Kudos: 258





	held my weight in shame

**Author's Note:**

> Hey friends, this fic can be very heavy at times so please check the tags and feel free to dip out if this isn't the fic for you. No hard feelings. More Warnings in endnotes. This idea wouldn't get out of my head so I had to do something about it. 
> 
> Unbeta'd and title from Lady May by Tyler Childers.

Buck is in the middle of cleaning his weaponry after a job when he hears it. A noise from the corner- the unmistakable scuffle of shoes across cement. He’s been ambushed before, but at least those guys weren’t so blatantly bad at it. This guy isn’t even trying to cover himself up-.

After six years of being on the job, it’s pretty hard to get the jump on him, but Buck still thinks it’s funny to watch people try.

Without lifting his head, he glances in the mirrors he keeps posted above his desk for moments like this. He almost misses the figure moving in the shadows of the warehouse behind him, but then Buck spots him off to the left, creeping closer to the lit area surrounding his desk with a silver gun in his hands. He’s wearing a mask to hide his face and limping like he’s got a bum leg. 

_Well_ , Buck thinks to himself, _he’s shorter than the guys they usually send._

He waits until the guy steps into the light before pushing away from his desk and grabbing him by the front of his shirt in one fluid movement. The gun that was in his hand clatters across the ground. Buck presses the body against the nearest wall, thinking that it’s no big deal. He’s just going to scare him a little before sending him running for the hills.

Then, Buck hears the pained noise that comes from the body in front of him and he takes a closer look at the masked face, realizing with horror that he’s holding _a child_.

_Good God._

He drops the kid without thinking about it much longer, horrified to have even put his hands on the child in such a way. The kid starts crying and tries to make himself as small as possible while he cowers against the wall.

Buck takes six steps back, his stomach sinking all the way to the cellar. All he’s thinking is: _Who would make you do this? You’re just a child, how could someone do that to you? You could’ve been killed, goddammit._

Buck doesn’t know whether to be scared right along with him or downright furious.

The kid is panicky crying like he thinks he’s about to _die_ and Buck can’t let that go on any longer. He moves carefully and reaches for the weapon that sits between them and empties the clip. Next, he pulls the flimsy mask off the kid's face and- _Jesus Christ,_ he can’t be any older than ten.

The subtle curl of his hair and shiny, wide eyes remind Buck of his young self in a way that he hasn’t thought of in years; he thinks he might be sick.

“Please don’t hurt me, mister,” the child begs. “I did-didn’t want to do the bad things. I’m sorry. I’m sorry, I just wanted to g-go home.”

Buck tries to collect himself and make sense of what he’s working with. There’s a shallow cut on his cheek that looks irritated but other than that he seems mostly fine just, you know, _petrified_. All of his instincts are screaming at him to comfort the kid. As soon as Buck reaches for him, the kid's arms fly up to shield his face and Buck knows right then and there that if he ever meets the bastards who did this it’ll be a miracle if they make it out alive.

“Hey, hey, I’m sorry I didn’t mean to scare you,” Buck says gently, holding up his hands. “I’m not going to hurt you. You’re safe here. It’s okay.”

Buck doesn’t move a muscle. He keeps his hands where the kid can see them, waiting until he drops his own hands enough to look Buck in the eye. When the child leans away from the wall towards Buck, his lips tremble as he speaks. “Y-You promise?”

“Cross my heart and hope to die,” Buck says sincerely. He has half a second to react when the child throws his arms out and around Buck’s neck. He holds the crying kid to his chest, soothing him in a way that he craved when he was this age. When he starts trembling, Buck moves his hands up and down the expanse of his back, encouraging him to relax.

“What’s your name, little man?”

“Ch-Christopher,” he says.

“Hi, Christopher. You can call me Buck… can you tell me who sent you here?”

Christopher’s voice goes quiet like he thinks someone is going to jump out and snatch him up if he dares to say the words too loud. “The Brigade.”

Buck feels his blood run cold. The children’s army; a group formed by the government to preemptively turn children into soldiers and other unspeakable things- of course. Buck should’ve known it was them. There was no way he was going to send Christopher back there; god only knows what they’d do to him if he failed his mission. The poor kid just wanted to go _home-_.

“You’re not going back there, you hear me?” Buck tells him firmly, holding Christopher’s head in his hand. “Those people can’t get to you anymore. Now while I’ve got something to say about it.” 

Christopher nods against his chest, holding on tighter. A few minutes later, Buck feels him go lax and Buck looks down to find that Christopher’s eyes have closed; the poor kid is probably exhausted with fear. He moves carefully, getting his arms under Christopher’s legs and carrying him over to the cot just a few feet from his desk. Buck can’t help but pull the blanket over Christopher’s frame and slipping his glasses off of his head; he should be getting to sleep, too- but first, he needs to figure out his next move.

Buck is supposed to report back to his base in the morning to confirm that the job is done. If he doesn’t return, someone will come looking for him; Buck has seen what happens to others who have tried to leave their post on their own volition, and that won’t do him any favors. He can’t bring Christopher with him back to base; his higher-ups will just send him back to The Brigade. At the same time, Buck can’t leave Christopher here alone- someone could be trailing him to ensure that Christopher finished the job he was sent to do, whatever that was.

While Christopher sleeps soundly, Buck sits on the ground next to him. He stays awake the whole night, running through his plans a thousand times and calculating every outcome. He knows what he needs to do- even if it means it’s not going to work out well for him in the long run.

He’s going to get this kid back to his family, one way or another.

It’s almost noon when the cot creaks and Christopher sits up in bed. He asks, “What are you doing?”

Buck looks up from where he’s rubbing iodine over his forearm. “There’s a tracking device in my arm so that my bosses can keep tabs on me while I’m out in the field. I need to take it out so that no one knows where I’m going or tries to follow me while I get you back home. C’mere, you can help me.”

Christopher walks over on tottery legs. “What do you need me to do?”

“After I make the incision, I need you to wipe the blood away so that I can see what I’m doing- you think you can do that?”

Christopher nods and Buck hands him the rag that he had laid across his lap. He flicks open his switchblade, carefully making a one-inch incision in his arm and grimacing when it stings. As he trades out his blade for a pair of tweezers, Christopher presses the cloth into his arm. Luckily, Buck cut his arm in just the right place that he doesn’t have to dig to get the device out. Christopher continues to wipe the blood away as Buck stitches the wound back up and he’s grateful for the second set of hands.

“You’re pretty good at this.”

“My dad used to be an army medic,” Christopher replies. “He taught me some stuff.”

Buck hums to himself, filing the information away for later. He glances down at Christopher’s legs, taking notice of how he’s holding himself. “Did you hurt yourself?”

Christopher shakes his head. “I have Cerebral Palsy; the muscles in my legs don’t work the same as everyone else’s. I had crutches- but then they got taken away. They were too loud.”

Buck doesn’t have to think about it very long before figuring out who could’ve done that and it makes his blood boil all over again. He lets the tracking device drop to the ground, making a dull sound. 

Christopher asks, “Do you- need to crush it or something?”

Buck shakes his head, “The guys monitoring me are morons, it’ll be a day or two before they realize there’s been no movement from the tracker- and even then, they’ll probably think that I’m dead in a ditch somewhere. Nobody knows about this place except for me. We’ll lay low for the rest of the day then leave early tomorrow, just to be careful.”

“Buck?”

“Yeah, bud?”

“What do you do that makes people think that you’re a bad person?”

A chill runs down his spine when he meets Christopher’s eye and Buck can’t bear to tell him the whole truth. The kid has been through enough just by being at the Brigade, he doesn’t need to add anything else to the list. He chooses his words carefully before saying:

“I’m a guy that knows all sorts of secrets, and that scares a lot of people.”

They leave before the sun is even up the next morning and Buck makes sure not to leave a single trace of having ever been in the warehouse. There’s just enough room in his duffle bag to fit his weaponry alongside his spare change of clothes. Christopher gives him a rough address as to where they’re going and Buck realizes knows the general area. It’s only about five miles from here. He’ll have to take a few sides streets, but he should be able to get both of them there in one piece. 

He hasn’t totally figured out what he’s going to do after he gets Christopher home, but Buck doesn’t tell him that.

Buck carries Christopher on his back most of the way, pulling an old zip-up hoodie around him so that no street cameras can pick up Christopher’s face. He tries to keep his head down as much as possible. As they walk, Christopher tells him dozens of stories, most of them about his dad being a hero and how he missed him the most when he was sent to The Brigade.

“Do you ever miss your family, Buck?”

He almost stumbles, caught off guard by the question. Buck picks up his pace again before Christopher can say anything about it. There’s a knot in his throat that won’t go away no matter how many times he swallows. Roughly, he says, “I miss my sister.”

For whatever reason, Christopher doesn’t ask any other questions about her and Buck is ten kinds of grateful for it.

Once they’re only a few blocks away and no longer at risk of being seen, he puts Christopher down and lets him lead the way. Buck doesn’t know this area of Los Angeles much like he thought he did. When they get to the last cross street, Buck finds himself getting more and more confused. This isn’t a neighborhood at all; this can’t be where Christopher lives.

Christopher picks up his pace as he walks up the driveway of a large building and tilts his head to the side.

“Chris, this is a firehouse.”

“I know; going to my real house was too risky. My dad should be here if he’s not home.”

The sliding garage doors are open when they walk up and there’s a flurry of noise from inside. Buck didn’t think that there were still any functioning firehouses left, but he’s grateful to be wrong. There’s a woman stocking an ambulance and she drops everything in her hands at the sight of Christopher.

She yells, “Oh my god, Cap! Diaz get down here!” She rushes forward, her hands hovering over Christopher’s arms. Buck can’t stop himself from curling a protective hand around his shoulder. He doesn’t know this woman, but Christopher obviously does- it must be safe to trust her.

Before he can think about it too much, a tan-skinned man with short hair and scruff is rushing towards them, reaching for Christopher and holding him impossibly close. This must be the _hero_ dad that he’s heard so much about; he thinks Christopher said his name was Eddie. There’s another man behind him that looks like he doesn’t believe his eyes. 

“I don’t- I don’t understand,” Eddie says, his voice shaky and surprised. “How are you here?”

When Christopher starts crying into his father’s neck, Buck has to look away. He suddenly feels like he’s overstepping. If he’s quick enough, maybe he can leave without anyone noticing that he was really here.

Then, before he can even consider making a move, Christopher says to the room, “Buck helped me get home. He’s one of the good guys but people just don’t know it.”

His stomach swoops at the implication of being called a good person; next to nothing he’s done in the last six years would contribute to that being true. When Buck looks up there are three sets of eyes on him. The guy in the corner- must be the captain- takes one look at him and says, “Did you really do that?”

Buck nods numbly, feeling oddly nervous under the man’s eye.

He looks Buck up and down for a minute before gesturing behind him with his head. “Come with me.”

Buck follows him up a set of stairs and into an office; he tries not to get squeamish when the door locks behind him. He can’t tell if he’s about to get chewed out or praised; he can’t decide which one sounds worse.

“My name is Bobby Nash, I’m the captain of this-.”

“Forgive me for being rude, but I don’t have time for this. I’ll be lucky if no one followed me here. It’s probably best that I didn’t stay long.”

Bobby continues, ignoring Buck’s lament. “You can have sanctuary here. It’s the least that I could do for someone who protected one of our own without thinking twice about it.”

“I know you heard what Chris said down there but I’m not exactly-.”

“I don’t care what you did before. I care that you decided to help now… you think you’d be willing to keep doing it?”

Buck considers it for a minute before slowly nodding yes; if he’s being entirely honest with himself, he’s tired of hiding in the shadows. Of always laying low and doing bad deeds the most people couldn’t work up in their worst nightmare.

He wants to be _done_.

Bobby looks almost pleased with himself. “Good. Welcome to the one-eighteen.”

Before Bobby leaves the room, Buck blurts out, “I’m a Navy Seal… off the books.”

He’s never said those words out loud before; saying them now, after the fact, almost feels like a curse. Bobby gives him a knowing look as though he’d already put that together and for the first time in six years, Buck doesn’t know what to do with himself.

He goes home with Chris and Eddie that night, one part because Chris won’t let him out of his sight for more than ten minutes and it’s not safe enough for him to just hideout at the firehouse, either of them. He hides in the trunk all the way to Eddie’s place; Bobby says he’ll work on getting Buck civilian papers, but he wonders if Bobby realizes just how much that’s going to dig up. Pandora’s box is supposed to stay closed for a reason.

The first night Eddie shows him around the whole house and offers him a spare set of clothes so that Buck’s isn’t wearing the same four shirts and pants over and over again and has something to sleep in. If he realized this was going to become a permanent thing, he would’ve packed more of his things.

“I’ll bring Chris with me to the firehouse tomorrow,” Eddie tells him as he meanders around the guest bedroom. “I have a feeling that Bobby won’t mind. You can stay here if you want or come with us. It’s up to you. Fair warning though, our shifts start pretty early. Did Bobby say when he wanted to you start your training?”

For the last six years, almost all of his interactions with people have been strictly business based and with a handful of weapons involved. So all of this, the domesticity of everything, it’s hard to settle into.

Before Eddie leaves him to sleep for the night, Buck asks, “Why are you doing all of this?”

Eddie looks at him firmly as if they’ve known each other for years and not just a few hours. “You protected my son and got him home safe. I’d do it for anybody in your place.”

Eddie shuts the door behind him as he goes and Buck lies awake half the night, feeling more at peace than he has in years.

Of all the things that Buck anticipated when he agreed to stay, he didn’t think that an eight-year-old needing him would be on the list.

Christopher panics any time Buck is out of the room for too long and can’t sleep without nightmares. When he wakes up afraid in the middle of the night, there’s no calming him down unless Buck stays with him until he’s asleep again. After the first two nights, Buck resorts to keeping a sleeping bag laid out on the floor to save himself the trip at four in the morning. He doesn’t mind doing it’s just… not what he expected. 

Buck can see it in Eddie’s face that it’s hurting him that his son is going to someone else for comfort in moments of fear. Two weeks in, after a night filled with crying and a kid who refused to sleep for more than twenty minutes at a time, Buck and Eddie are nursing a pot of coffee just before seven in the morning. 

“I’m supposed to work later today,” Eddie says, grimacing as he looks at his watch. “I think I’ll have to call Bobby and tell him that I can’t come in; not very useful if I can’t keep my eyes open during a rescue. Or comfort my own son for that matter.”

The last line comes out bitterly as he sucks his coffee through his teeth. Buck sets his own mug down on the counter, looking up at him. “Can I say something?”

Eddie glances at him curiously but nods still.

“You gotta understand, Chris was _horrified_ when I met him- whoever was in charge of that place painted me like a monster. He really expected me to hurt him, so when I didn’t, he latched onto that. It had obviously been a while since anyone showed him any care or affection and that’s not on you. You didn’t have a say in all that. But just… give him time. You’re his dad. He needed you first. Remember that. Hold onto it.”

Eddie’s facial features smooth into something a little less exhausted and more understanding- grateful almost. He seems to roll over all of it for a moment before quietly saying, “Thanks, Buck.” 

Buck picks up his coffee and heads towards the guestroom, hoping to get at least another hour or two in before getting on with his day. He turns on his heel halfway there, thinking of something else.

“For what it’s worth,” Buck says, “When I was eight and I had nightmares, my parents didn’t care enough to come to my rescue. You’re doing a good thing here, Eddie. Believe me.”

He leaves finally after that, not giving Eddie a chance to say anything. Buck tries not to think of his parents too much, it usually leaves him feeling in a sour mood for the rest of the day after. He goes back to the guest room and leaves his coffee on the nightstand, no longer interested in drinking it. Buck climbs back under the covers and pulls them over his head.

He thinks of Maddie and the last time he saw her, hoping that he doesn’t have nightmares of his own as he drifts back to sleep.

Buck likes working at the one-eighteen a lot more than he expected he would. The team reminds him a lot of the Seals, just less violent and with a captain who listens as opposed to just giving orders all the time. It’s a welcome change to everything that he’d been doing before, even if adjusting is still taking some getting used to.

His first week on the job, Chimney tries striking up a conversation with him at lunch.

“What did you do before this, Buck?”

Buck almost drops his spoon where’s he’s been leaning over his bowl and shoveling soup into his mouth. He feels Eddie go stiff next to him; out of the corner of his eye, Buck sees Hen backhand Chimney on the arm and shake her head.

“What? It’s just a question.”

Buck clears his throat before sitting back in his seat. He can feel his nerves starting to kick in. “It’s not really a conversation to have over lunch.”

“Oh, c’mon. It can’t be that bad.”

“Really, Chim, I don’t think you want to know.”

Somehow, Chimney still isn’t getting the message. “Why would I not-.”

Bobby interrupts from the other end of the table, saying firmly. “Chimney, let it go.”

Chimney looks between Bobby and Buck a few times before looking back down at his own bowl. “Sorry I asked,” he mutters.

Buck forces himself to breathe out until he feels like his lungs are going to explode. He looks over to Bobby, nodding at him gratefully before turning back to his soup. He finishes his food in less than two minutes, feeling like his chest is going to burst if he doesn’t get out of there as soon as possible.

Buck retreats down to the gym, pulling on the first pair of gloves that he sees and planting himself in front of the nearest boxing bag. He loses himself in the motion of all of it. Feeling the way his fists connect with the bag, knowing that his hands are going to be tender later just from the force of it.

He doesn’t know how much time has passed before Eddie appears next to him, leaning against the wall. Buck can tell by the look on his face that Eddie’s trying to be on his side with all of this, even if he doesn’t totally know how yet.

“Is it really that bad? What you did before?”

Buck stops swinging long enough to catch his breath. “It’s not good.”

Eddie nods like he guessed as much. He waits until Buck meets his eye before saying, “I know you don’t want to talk about it right now, but when you do, you know where to find me.”

He doesn’t realize it right then, but that statement means more to Buck than anything else that’s been said to him in years.

It doesn’t come up again until a few weeks later. Buck and Eddie are swapping stories over whiskey; Christopher is already asleep for the night and they’re not working the next day. Buck never touched the hard stuff while he was with the Seals. He knew he needed to keep a clear head while he was working. Besides, he’s seen plenty of men get pulled into a problem they can’t get themselves out of because they turned to a bottle instead of facing their issues.

Tonight, he lets the alcohol dull his senses and make him feel all warm inside as he and Eddie sit outside with a small fire going in front of them. Buck swirls the glass around, watching the liquid move in slow circles.

“I got discharged after an injury,” Eddie tells Buck. “Took a few bullets after an ambush and that was it for me. I think if I hadn’t gotten hurt I’d still be in the army, but Christopher and I would be strangers to each other… I don’t even want to think about what that would’ve been like.”

“I think I might know.” Buck’s tongue is starting to feel heavy in his mouth, but he keeps going anyway. “My parents stopped giving a shit pretty early on; I didn’t care so much about losing contact with them. But I always tried to keep up with Maddie, even after I was in the thick of it. ‘Course that only worked for so long before our own lives got in the way. Last time talked, we were practically different people altogether.” 

“Who’s Maddie?”

Buck looks up at him with glossy eyes, realizing he’s said more than he meant to. It’s been a few years since she died but it still feels like it was just yesterday that he last saw her. He mumbles, “She was my sister.” 

Something in Eddie’s face shifts and Buck has to look away from him. He hopes that Eddie has enough wits about him to put the pieces together. He stares at his drink intently, wishing that he could jump inside of it and never come out.

“You told me that your old job wasn’t good,” Eddie remarks. “Do I wanna know why?”

Buck shakes his head. “I don’t think you would’ve let me around Christopher before all of this if you knew half of the things I’ve done.”

“…Did you ever kill anyone?”

Buck knew the question was coming and somehow it doesn’t make his scrawl as much as he thought it would. “Just once.”

“Why?”

“Cause he took my sister away from me.”

He doesn’t say anything else about it after that. Not about Maddie or walking into her house to find the kitchen a mess or how he could’ve done “the right thing” and just gotten her piece of shit husband arrested. He can’t start letting go of all of this now. If he lets this out for even a second, he knows he’ll never be able to get a hold of it again.

“I know this doesn’t mean much, coming from someone you don’t totally know,” Eddie tells him. “But I’m glad that you’re here Buck. We all are.”

Buck can’t bring himself to answer out loud, but much to his own surprise, he feels the same way.

He knew he was getting too comfortable here, letting his guard down too often. If he hadn’t, maybe then he would’ve seen the ambush coming.

He’s cleaning the truck after a call when he feels a gun press to the back of his skull. Buck’s entire body goes still, instantly taking stock of everything around him. The rest of the team is upstairs, thank god. He doesn’t want to bring them into this mess. Buck looks to the side mirror on the truck, just barely able to make out the figure standing over his shoulder. 

His old Navy Seal commander sneers, “You didn’t think you could leave us that easy, did you, Buckley?”

He doesn’t even get a chance to put his hands up before the gun smashes into the back of his head and dazes him. Buck, just barely catching himself on the side of the truck; his head swims as he groans.

“Six years in and you think you can just run off with some _kid_ ,” Commander Thomas spits out. “We have eyes everywhere. There’s no getting out without someone seeing you.”

 _Please don’t have Christopher,_ he prays to himself. _Please, please, leave him out of this._

“Just kill me if that’s what you want,” Buck says roughly. “I don’t care what you do, just don’t hurt the kid. Don’t hurt any of them.”

Then there’s commotion coming from the loft followed by the sounds of footsteps and Commander Thomas is pulling Buck upright by his hair right as everyone gets to the floor. They all skid to a stop a few feet short of him when Commander Thomas’ voice bellows out from behind him.

“This one is ours. He comes with us. And the boy. Consider it penance.”

Buck watches through lidded, heavy eyes as Eddie struggles against Hen’s arms, wanting to get closer. He can hear Christopher around somewhere, but he can’t _see_ him and that scares Buck the most. Eddie looks worried out of his mind and Buck hates to think that he has something to do with that.

Bobby’s firm voice comes from somewhere in front of him, “Buckley is one of ours. Whatever debt he has to you is well past paid off. He’s no good to you anymore, believe me.” 

“He knows too much-.”

“Yeah and so does everyone in this damn building.” Bobby’s voice is getting louder by the second. “You really think I’d let a Seal around my crew without telling them where he’s been? Last I checked taking out a bunch of innocent civilians grants immediate discharge in your line of work, so I’d pick your next move very carefully if I was you.”

For a moment, it’s so silent that a pin dropping would make more noise than all of them combined. Bobby doesn’t look away from Commander Thomas even once; you could cut the tension with a knife.

After what feels like forever, the grip on his hair is released and Buck catches himself on his arms before he can face plant against the ground. He waits until footsteps retreat before letting himself drop fully, the dizziness finally getting the better of him. He rolls onto his back as his team moves towards him; Eddie and Hen both swim into his vision.

Buck pants, “Chris- Christopher.”

“We’ve got him, Buck,” Hen says assuredly. “He’s okay, we got him.”

The dark spots in his eyes pull him in before he can give a full response, but he hopes they all know that he is grateful.

He’s lying on a bunk when he comes to. Buck’s got one hell of a headache but there’s ice under his head and the room is dark save for the light coming in from the ajar door, so it could definitely be worse. He picks his head up and finds Eddie sitting at the foot of his bed. When he looks to his left, Christopher is asleep in the bunk next to him and Buck feels all of his nerves settle again. He looks to Eddie when he feels a warm hand on his leg.

Eddie asks, “How’s the head?”

“The room spinning a bit, but I’ve felt worse. Is Chris okay?”

“Not a scratch on him, just scared more than anything.”

“Good. Thomas never did care much about leaving kids out of the crossfire. I hated that about him.” 

He nods slowly, an unreadable look coming across his face. “You kept him safe. Again.”

Buck shrugs even though it jostles his head. “Can’t let you have all the fun.”

Eddie gives a bitter, wet laugh and Buck doesn’t want to think about what that means. “What do you think is going to happen now? With your commander and the Seals.”

“His options are to tell his higher-ups that I’m dead or MIA. Both are grounds for getting him out of the job- if he’s smart, he won’t return to his post.”

“Like you didn’t?”

Buck looks at him carefully. “I wanted out; your son gave me an option when I wasn’t expecting it. I knew what I was risking when I brought him here, but I also knew that I couldn’t leave him alone… I wouldn’t have been able to live with myself if I deserted a child.”

Eddie nods, saying, “Somehow that doesn’t surprise me.” 

After a minute, Buck asks shyly, “Does everyone really know about all the terrible shit I did?”

Eddie shakes his head. “Bobby only said that to scare him off. Nobody knows anything.”

Buck will have to thank him for that at some point once he feels like he could stand up without falling over. Christopher wakes up another minute later and launches himself at Buck, holding him tightly across the chest. In a weird way, it’s the best day that Buck has had in years.

Buck waits until after his concussion clears to tell Eddie everything. How he got into this mess with the Seals in the first place and everything about Maddie. He does it first thing in the morning so he can get it over with. Eddie holds him when he starts shaking and he didn’t even realize how much he needed it; his voice cracks as he talks about Doug.

“I used to _trust him_ , Eddie. How could he do that to her?”

It’s cathartic in a way he could never have imagined. Eddie doesn’t ask questions or shy away at any point, even when Buck tells him about all of the people hurt just because someone told him he had to. Even after he’s done, Eddie doesn’t let go and Buck finally lets himself cry in a way he hasn’t done since his sister died. It’s ugly and loud, but Eddie’s there through all of it, so it isn’t all bad.

Later, once he’s settled, Eddie asks, “Do you wanna tell the team?”

Buck shakes his head, “Not right now. I trust them, but… there are some things I just don’t want them to know yet.”

Eddie remarks like he can’t believe it, “But you told me.”

Buck looks up at him from where his head has found its way to Eddie’s lap, reaching for one of his hands. “I trust you more than anything, Eddie.”

Eddie looks awestruck for all of a minute before kissing Buck and _god_ he’s missed this. Being close with someone in this way. He wishes the moment could last forever. Eddie’s free hand finds the side of Buck’s face and he holds Eddie closer, sinking into the warm feeling and refusing to let go.

Eddie pulls away first, pressing kisses to Buck’s face and along his hairline, and Buck just sighs, relaxed in a way he hasn’t felt in years.

They’re at home when the news breaks; it interrupts all TV stations just to tell the story. Buck comes in just as Eddie has turned up the volume. “What’s going on?”

Eddie looks back at him with wide, watery eyes. "They disbanded The Brigade."

Buck swears that he forgets how to breathe. All of those kids will get to go home; no more fighting or turning children into something they don’t want to be. Him and Christopher don’t have to hide anymore- they don’t need to be afraid of someone coming to get them.

Eddie and Buck tell Christopher right away and all of them cry. They sit on the couch for hours, Christopher fit snug between both of them as they hold each other; all of them are ten kinds of relived. Buck never thought he’d get away from all the fighting and peril- didn’t think that he’d be able to have a family again, but here he is.

Of all the ways he imagined his life would turn out, this definitely wasn’t one of them, but _goddamn_ , he is grateful.

**Author's Note:**

> There's a bit of referenced domestic violence and it's revealed that Maddie died because of Doug in this universe, though it's only implied not specifically said, and that Buck killed him shortly thereafter. 
> 
> Hey, thanks for reading my fic! Comments/Kudos are appreciated and encouraged. You can find me on tumblr as paranoidbean. Have a great day!


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